Deceit Can Be Rewarding
by QuintossentialGray
Summary: Takes place right around 3.24. Luke’s been abandoned and Sylar's using ‘Agent Taub’ to take down and kill as many specials as he wants. Danko assigns him to haul Luke in personally after he's been connected to a series of incidents. Smut and violence.


"Gentlemen, the next round of pick-ups will be slightly fewer in numbers than it has been previously. Our take-down rate is at an unprecedented 84%...which means that our methods are more than effective against our targets. You all should be proud of the service that you're providing for this country, and for the safety of its people. Inside the folders that are being handed out, you will find the name and file on your latest acquisition. If you are working with a unit, that information will also be included. That's all…let's go out there and haul these S.O.B.'s in. Dismissed."

Emile Danko watched as the men glanced over their folders and began to file out of the room. In a few minutes, all were gone but the single remaining agent sitting near the back of the room with his boots kicked up onto one of the briefing room's desks. The man smirked and glanced up at Danko as he continued to lean in his seat.

"Funny how I'm the reason for a very large part of that 84% and yet…I don't even get so much as a 'thank you.' I'm hurt."

A smirk creased Agent Taub's lips or, no that was a twitch as Danko watched the man's form shift and morph back into what he was really underneath. Every arch and ridge of bone became as soft malleable as warm modeling clay. But the process was so much more painful-looking and jerky than watching an animation morphing smoothly on perhaps a graphic design program. The man's face increased in length and sharpness of features. His jaw line became more defined and his cheekbones shifted up a little more. Taub's smooth face became instantly dotted with a lacing of dark prickly stubble and his brow-line became more pronounced. Clear blue eyes darkened back into a lighter shade of amber—the smirking lips now much fuller than they were before the change. He groaned softly, his spine was still tingling from being lengthened while at rest.

Danko watched, he noticed that the security camera in the room didn't' have a red light glowing in the corner, but that still didn't mean it was okay for Sylar to do this while they were in Building 26 together.

"Somehow, I think you'll get over it. Your uh…eye is still Taub's eye", he noted while he produced a file folder from his jacket.

Sylar stood up and moved over to a mirror that hung on the left wall of the room. Sure enough, it was one brown eye and one blue—he had to work on controlling that better. Sylar shifted the eye back to his own, and blinked a few times before moving back toward Danko. His hand reached out and he grazed his fingertips over the manila folder.

"Is this one mine? I noticed Taub was also left out of the assignments—which will no doubt please his former friends and co-workers", he mused with a soft chuckle. Every so often, Sylar-as-Taub would hear the random utterances of questions about why Agent David Taub had turned into such a "hot-shot, elitist, douche-bag." There was something so quietly satisfying about being able to further assassinate a man's character—even when he was dead. There was a level of control in it that Sylar looked forward to exploring in newer and better ways as this odd situation continued.

Danko slid the file over back to himself then picked it up with a deft motion of his skilled hand. He flipped it open and nodded while he perused the contents. He glanced up at Sylar with those icy blue orbs he laughably called 'eyes'.

"Yes, and I picked this one out for you special", Danko dropped the folder down onto the metal table with a loud thwack before he crossed his arms to observe Sylar's initial reaction.

That smirk was the first thing to go when his eyes settled over the glossy photograph of Luke Campbell paper-clipped to the file. His eyes scanned over the words in the file—his own name mentioned once or twice. Apparently there had been reports of burglaries with strange circumstances—melted through locks, surfaces that looked burned but with no discernible fire to have ever been set, and of course in one incident someone who came home too early. According to the attached medical file, with a few rounds of reconstructive surgery her face would almost look normal again. Luke had another casualty to his name now to join the late Agent Simmons.

Sylar's eyes went back to the photograph, it was surveillance from that fateful day when Luke was captured at that diner in Illinois—the day that Sylar put his own life on the line to save this misguided kid's and for what? So he could become some pathetic brat using his power like a kid with a magnifying glass at an ant hill. He had learned nothing.

"Where is he?"

It was Danko's turn then to smirk as he paced the aisle between the metal desks. He knew this was just the thing for Sylar to deal with and in many ways it was the perfect test of his loyalty.

"Campbell was spotted on a streetlight surveillance cam leaving an apartment in the Palisades neighborhood up in the North-West quadrant. It's believed that he's been squatting at that building for the past two days and it would be the ideal place for an acquisition. The sooner you leave the better but first…get your face back on."

Danko spat the last words out with a growing distaste for his reliance upon the living weapon at his side. Sylar didn't strut around in his own body like he would have under normal circumstances. The two had started clashing lately about how often Sylar should be wearing Taub's face and body. But one thing was certain for Sylar as he shifted painfully back into the slightly shorter man.

"Not a problem, I don't want him to see me coming."

Luke moved around the kitchen as he poured himself a bowl of cereal. First the bowl was set out onto the counter and then he looked around for a clean spoon after the cereal and milk had been poured in. Cradling the bowl against his arm, Luke walked into the living room and sat on the sofa. Staying here had been nice—the girl who normally rented the apartment was on vacation in Germany so Luke could further enjoy stealing her food and watching free cable for as long as a month if he wanted—not like any better opportunity had come along. He felt so lost for nearly a week when he left…but he realized that he couldn't just wander around the grounds of that abandoned diner and hope to see the Chevy truck pull up again. This wasn't Illinois—Sylar wasn't going to carry him away again. So he decided that he just had go out there and figure out his own life without his mother, without a false idol like Sylar had turned out to be—he didn't' need any of them. Luke lounged on the sofa with a leg dangling over the edge as he ate the sugary cereal. The occasional chuckle at the game show he was watching—oh Family Feud. All these smiling, clapping, encouraging members of families trying to help one another out was nothing more than a joke to Luke.

"Heh…more like 'bad answer'", Luke scoffed as he brought the spoon to his lips again when he clacked the metal utensil to his teeth there was a sudden jolt that made every muscle go rigid while he shook and sputtered out a howling scream—the bowl dropped to the floor and shattered, spraying bits of marshmallow and milk everywhere. When the current stopped flowing through the node that had hooked its way onto his thigh—Luke's limp body slid down onto the floor, his face landing in a puddle of spilled milk as he went totally still.

When his eyes fluttered back open again there was no way for Luke to know how much time had passed while he was out. All he knew were certainties. His entire body ached and his arms felt so heavy that he could even move them. No…no, he couldn't move them because his wrists were bound behind his back by a plastic zip-tie—cinched and secure. His face was sticky from the drying milk that his cheek still rested in. Luke moved to get up again but found with his arms so tightly bound behind him that his balance wasn't exactly at its peak. After a few moments worth of groggy struggle—he rolled onto his back. As soon as he stared at the ceiling he felt something press down hard on his chest then move to rest at the base of his neck. A black combat boot that still had the acrid smell of boot polish emanating from the surface was now keeping him pinned down to the floor as a hand reached down and the next thing Luke felt was more pressure at the side of his neck as a pneumatic syringe shot the contents of its plastic tube straight into his blood stream.

"I've seen too many fine men go down because of you fucking freaks…that is intravenous neural inhibitor. Remember that shit in the tube back in Rockford? That just cuts out the middle-man of a device. You can't use your ability, boy."

When Luke tried he couldn't even feel the warmth that typically pulsed from his fingertips. A hand moved and gripped him above his elbow; his body was yanked upright until Luke knelt on the floor of the apartment. He could finally glance up and see who was in the room with him. Shit…it was one of those agents—but where was the team?

" Hm. I thought you assholes came in groups…where's the rest of your men?"

Taub dragged Luke on his knees over to a small radiator in the old-style apartment. He removed a pair of handcuffs from his belt. The cuffs were unclasped and then reattached with one cuff through a metal loop in the radiator and the other cuff attached through the loop made by the cinched zip-tie. When Luke was secure on his knees, Taub looked down on for a long moment—he considered the kneeling boy then the barest smirk moved the corners of the man's thin lips.

"I don't need a team…eliminating a target only takes one man…one gun."

With that being said, Agent Taub removed the handgun from his shoulder holster. He flicked the safety off and crouched next to the boy. As Luke tried to pull away, Taub gripped the boy's chestnut-hued hair and pulled his head forward until Luke's cheek was dented by the barrel of the handgun. His eyes shot wide open and he felt his breathing hitch and speed up.

"W-what the fuck are you doing, I'll…I-I'll come with you, okay?!"

Taub shook his head and while he spoke he dragged the cold metal over Luke's soft cheek. His free hand moved to undo his belt buckle and then his pants—button and zipper both unfastened with a slow deliberate motion.

"You wanna know something, kid? Jim Simmons was a friend of mine—a very close friend. Since day one on the job…and then he was boiled alive by some freak who didn't care about the wife and kids he left behind. So I wanna hear you do something for me boy…I wanna hear you beg for your life…I want you to feel the hope that I might let you live after what you did to him…"

Luke's lips were caressed with the firm metal kiss of the barrel and then suddenly, Taub began to press the tip harder against the young man's lips.

"Open."

Luke's eyes couldn't have been wider as the man above him roughly gripped the boy's hair to get him to physically comply. Metal clicked lightly against the boy's teeth and sent a shock wave through his nerves. The barrel slid in to rest against Luke's tongue. It made his gag reflex act up and he responded with an embarrassing yelp when the barrel was more than half-way in. Taub smirked and drew back his thumb to pull back the hammer of the weapon.

"Mmmfff!"

Taub cracked the barrel against Luke's back teeth and raised a brow as he shook his head in disappointment.

"What did I say I wanted to hear from you, huh kid? Start begging."

Every muscle in Luke's body burned in his uncomfortable kneeling position. All he could do was make garbled sounds that ended up being broken-sounding words and consonants. His brown eyes locked on Taub's face and he could sense that the man was completely fascinated by the tears pooling up in Luke's eyes and then dripping down his cheeks. After Luke begged for his life or rather choked out pleading half-sobs for close to five minutes, Taub seemed satisfied enough to click the hammer back into it's safe position. If it weren't for the way he was chained to the radiator, Luke would have fallen over in complete relief.

Taub smiled and cocked his head to the side as if he'd just noticed something interesting. Luke felt his chest seize as he realized that the agent made no motion to remove the weapon from his mouth. Taub's free hand reached down and his fingers ran softly through Luke's chestnut hair as the boy shuddered beneath him.

"I think you got blood on my gun, didn't you boy? Well, that just means that you're going to be the one to clean it. Now…suck it so it's nice and shiny again."

When Luke began to protest, Taub slipped his thumb back over to the hammer again and Luke groaned as he reluctantly forced his lips to slide back and forth along the barrel. Taub's lips spread into a smug grin while Luke sucked and laved his tongue all round the metal cylinder. Slick, grunting sounds came from his lips as his eyes remained fixed on Taub's thumb—hoping it wouldn't slam the hammer back and allow the man to paint the drab beige wall with Luke's grey matter.

Taub finally removed the weapon from Luke's mouth with a wet 'pop' sound. He walked forward a little more and tugged on Luke's hair. The young man's eyes shifted to stare up at Taub—glassy from newly formed tears and bloodshot from the ones he's already shed.

"Please…please don't kill me. I-I'm begging you…I didn't want to hurt your friend…I-I don't wanna die…I-I didn't have a choice, okay? He made me do it!"

All of the pressure Luke felt building in his kneecaps from being on the hardwood floor was suddenly lifted. As well as his entire body as he floated in mid-air for a few seconds and then found himself flung across the room. Luke ended up pinned to the far wall and held in place—a feeling and experience the boy knew all too well. Bones cracked and reset themselves as skin shifted and stretched—Luke watched in shock as Agent Taub became the man who'd left him in the dirt…bloodied and abandoned.

Once Sylar's form was once again fully his own, he lifted his left hand—index finger out, and began to slash mercilessly at the back of Luke's pants and boxers until they were shards of fabric barely hanging together. Luke cried out and his fingers curled while he desperately tried to push himself back off of the wall.

"Luke, Luke, Luke…haven't you learned by now that lying around me is only going to earn you pain?"

A soft chuckle as Sylar shook his head and began to press his body flush with the struggling boy. He slipped into his already unfastened pants and removed himself—stroking thoughtfully as Luke's line of sight couldn't quite reveal what was going to happen next.

"Y-you! What are you…how…how could you leave me there on my own? I needed you!" Luke shouted as he continued to futilely struggle against Sylar's telekinetic hold.

"Aw…how sweet. You needed me…and yet you lied to me…you manipulated me…you're lucky that you aren't already dead, Luke. I've put up with a lot from you and now? Well I'm going to…fill that need of yours. The one you've ached for since the day our lives collided…"

With that he tugged some scraps of Luke's shredded boxers away and rubbed a firm, possessive hand over the boy's ass, it caused him to shudder and groan. Only one word could make it out of Luke's lips now.

"Please….Please…"

It was hard to say if Luke was pleading for him not to, or begging him to give him what he's dreamt of for so many long, lonely nights now. Sylar spit down into his palm to lube himself just a little before he held the tip of his cock to Luke's very tight hole. The man smirked and began the long, painful process of pushing his way past a seemingly unyielding ring of muscle. Luke shifted and screamed out as sweat poured down the bumps of his spine. It was a pain like nothing he'd ever experienced as Sylar forced his way inside of his body.

"Fuck…I see you've waited for me…well that's one thing you've done right."

Sylar paused then angled his body a little to reach another inch of submersion. Finally, he'd made his way in enough to tear into Luke's delicate inner tissue. Small droplets of blood trickled down the insides of his thighs as he gritted his teeth together and groaned in agony. Both men panted as Sylar took a moment before he withdrew part of his length and then thrust it sharply back into Luke's body. He moaned and cursed—wasn't this supposed to feel good? It only felt like a jabbing, burning sensation that he could get no relief from feeling. Sylar withdrew again and thrust harder, trying to break his way past Luke's resistance so he could get a rhythm going.

"AGGHHHH! It hurts…it hurts so bad, oh God please…Please!"

Sylar moved and wrapped his arm around Luke's body. He fished the boy's own cock out from the mostly undamaged front of his pants. His hand wrapped tightly around the firm, pulsing skin and he began to tug and slide his palm along it—base to head while he continued to thrust. Both men twitched and moaned as they started to find a mutual pleasure in the act. Especially when Luke's opening had been stretched enough for Sylar to start angling his thrusts—allowing him to repeatedly hit the boy's prostate. Luke screamed and begged for it now—begged for Sylar to drive into him harder and faster. It didn't take long for Luke to splatter his release all over Sylar's hand and he moaned out Sylar's name in the most erotic breathy tone of voice that Sylar could have ever imagined hearing it in. He too, built up to his eventual release—Sylar filled Luke easily—when he withdrew, the young man leaked out a mixture of Sylar's seed and his own blood.

"I…I…Oh God…that was…I can't believe you finally…fuck…."

Luke was beyond a means to articulate how he felt as wave of pleasure wracked his mind and senses completely. He finally relaxed his body against the wall and smiled a little as they both recovered from the act. Sylar shifted his pants again—refastening his belt as he took a moment to collect himself. Luke continued talking though while he stood there.

"That…I mean I know you're probably still mad at me but I only did all that because I hoped it'd somehow get your atten—"

When Sylar fixed his pants, he deftly slid his fingers into a pocket on his tactical jacket. A small syringe filled with a moderate sedative was removed and promptly injected into Luke's neck, mid-sentence. Sylar released his hold on the boy and Luke's body crumbled to the ground at the man's feet. He smiled a little while he flicked the hand-cuffs keeping him hooked to the radiator open. Sylar strode forward and picked him up to haul him over his shoulder just as he did when he'd rescued him from the transport van back in Illinois.

"Shhh…you can't take care of yourself out here and I'm not nearly done with you yet. You're coming back with me Luke, and I promise I'll fill every last one of your…needs."

A quick glance around the apartment and then Sylar walked out—toting the unconscious boy with him. With Luke in a safe, secure cell close-by to Taub's office…he'd be sure to give the misguided boy a purpose 


End file.
